EMPERORNORTONI
The benevolent dictator beloved and honored by San Franciscans to this day. By Patricia E. Carr

Officially, the United States has had thirty-seven different Presidents. But at one time our country also
had another head of state as well as a President-it actually had an emperor.

Although few history books mention his name, in the mid-1800's Joshua Abraham Norton proclaimed
himself Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico. And for almost a quarter of a
century he ruled his vast domain with exemplary benevolence and kindly common sense.

Unlike all of our Presidents, Joshua Norton was not a natural-born citizen of the United States. Born in
England in 1819, he migrated with his parents to south Africa where he spent his youth. It was not until
1849, as a young man of 30, that he immigrated to his future capital-San Francisco.

Norton was different from the majority of forty-niners. He did not come with the typical empty pockets
to mine California's newly discovered gold. Instead he is reported to have entered the port with $40,000.

With this working capital he set himself up in the real estate and import brokerage business and before
long had parlayed this sizable amount into a respectable fortune. By applying shrewd business practices to a
variety of ventures, Norton is said to have accumulated about a quarter of a million dollars by 1853.

Unfortunately, Joshua Norton's financial ruin came just as rapidly as his success. Foreseeing a large rice
demand from the many Oriental workers in the city, he bought up as much rice as he could in an attempt to
corner the local market. As he expected, the price of rice soared. But before he could take advantage of
the inflated prices, two ships laden with more rice entered the port. His vast holdings became virtually
worthless, and he went bankrupt. During the following litigation, Norton lost all he had. He disappeared
for a time, leaving many to wonder about his fate. When he finally reappeared in 1857, it was apparent that
in addition to losing his fortune, he had also lost his mental balance and his identity.

Joshua A. Norton returned to San Francisco not as a bankrupt merchant, but as none other than the
Emperor of the United States, and announced his rule by issuing an official proclamation. With the
indulgence of the editor of the San Francisco Bulletin, Norton's edict was made known to his subjects on
September 17, 1859.

"At the peremptory request and desire of a large majority of the citizens of these United States."
"Representatives of the different states," Norton ordered, were to meet in San Francisco's Musical Hall the following February "to make such alterations in the existing laws of the Union as may ameliorate the
evils under which the country is laboring and thereby cause confidence to exist, both at home and abroad,
in our stability and integrity."

Apparently such a meeting never took place; nevertheless Norton assumed his exalted position. Dressed in
baggy, faded blue, military-type uniform, complete with gilt epaulets and shiny brass buttons, Norton
began to strut about the streets of San Francisco as if he did indeed rule the city. Although he wore other
hats during his reign, it was a beaver hat that Norton seemed to prefer. Gaily colored feathers topping the
already tall hat added inches for his somewhat stocky frame. But it was the Emperor's regal bearing and
attitude itself that made him the impressive figure that he was. Norton looked and acted every inch a king,
even if at times his royal outfit was ill fitting and a little worse for wear.

With a ceremonial sword at his side and an umbrella or walking stick as his scepter, the bearded monarch
strolled about his domain. During his daily patrol of the streets of San Francisco Norton made certain that
all sidewalks were unobstructed. He reviewed the police to see that they were on duty. He checked on the
progress of needed street repairs, inspected buildings under construction, and in general saw to it that all
of the city's ordinances were enforced.

Norton was pestered at times with a few teasing hecklers, but on the whole the citizens of San Francisco
adopted the eccentric ex-merchant and actually afforded him the royal treatment he commanded. He was
allowed to eat in restaurants as the guest of the owners. As his fame spread, the restauranteurs actually
vied for his royal patronage and approval. Transportation was provided free of charge. At one point the city
provided an annual sum for the Emperor's trappings. To take care of any other physical needs of his royal
person, Norton was even allowed to issue bonds, collect taxes from his subjects, or cash his own scrip
(payable "by the agents of our Private Estate, in case the Government of Norton the First does not hold
firm"), printed free of charge by local printers. As a wise dictator Norton was careful not to impose undue
burdens on his subjects. His needs were modest, so his periodic demands on his subjects for financial
assistance were kept to a minimum.

The citizens of the young city saw to it that Emperor Norton was well provided for, but they also went a
step further. They more than humored his delusions. They even seemed to be proud that their city had the
honor of being his royal capital. Whether it was a salute or a bow as they passed him on the street, they
universally gave their Emperor the tribute he expected. They even listed him in the city directory as
"Norton, Joshua (Emperor), dwl. Metropolitan Hotel." They allowed him to review the cadets at the
University of California. They gave him a place of honor at plays, concerts, public lectures, and other
civic affairs. The police department - Norton's "Imperial Constabulary" - reserved a special chair for him
at the precinct station and even prevailed upon him to march at the head of their annual parade.
As Norton made his way around the street of San Francisco, his royal court of two mongrel dogs would
almost always be close by. Noted for their exceptional ability to keep the rat population in check,
Bummer and Lazarus were constant companions. Like the Emperor himself, they soon found their way
into the hearts of the citizens of San Francisco. When a new dogcatcher took Lazarus into custody by
mistake one time, an angry mob voiced vigorous protest; and city officials quickly announced that both
dogs were to have free run of the city. But despite their freedom, they seemed to prefer following the
Emperor. At the free lunch counters, especially, they could be seen at the heels of their king as they
waited for him to toss them some choice morsels.

Norton enjoyed the powers and privileges befitting an emperor, but he did more than simply accept the
tribute of his subjects. Norton I was a working monarch. While much of his time was spent inspecting his
domain, he never neglected his paperwork. During his reign Norton issued a wide variety of royal
documents, and, as loyal subjects, newspaper editors followed his command and printed them.

On the local scene, Norton once issued a proclamation to ensure that proper respect was paid to his
beloved capital city. "Whoever after due and proper warning," he proclaimed, "shall be heard to utter the
abdominal word 'Frisco,' which has no linguistic or other warrant, shall be deemed guilty of a High
Misdemeanor." Penalty for noncompliance was $25. The proclamation obviously proved difficult to
enforce, but many native San Franciscans to this day abide by it.

Outwardly, Norton I may have lost touch with reality, but his altruistic goals and aspirations for his
adopted country - and his insight into what his country needed - were remarkable.

As early as July of 1860 Emperor Norton saw trouble brewing between the North and the South and
declared that the Union be dissolved for the duration of the emergency. He wanted to arbitrate the Civil
War, but no one seemed inclined to take him up on his generous offer.
In 1869 he showed uncanny foresight when he ordered a bridge built across the San Francisco Bay.
People laughed at his ridiculous proposal, but about sixty years later the Oakland-San Francisco Bay
Bridge became a reality. Today a plaque honors the Emperor's wisdom: "Pause traveler, and be grateful to
Norton I... whose prophetic wisdom conceived and decreed the bridging of San Francisco Bay..."

Emperor Norton's love and concern for San Francisco did not prevent him from directing his attention
to the national scene. His Royal Majesty soon tired of all the political mudslinging going on in the
country, and he decided to put an end to it by issuing another of his famous proclamations in the
San Francisco Herald on August 4, 1869:

Being desirous of allaying the dissension's of party strife now existing within our realm, [I] do
hereby dissolve and abolish the Democratic and Republican parties, and also do hereby degree the
disfranchisement and imprisonment, for not more than ten, nor less than five years, to all persons
leading to any violation of this our imperial decree.

Norton ruled much of his kingdom by proclamations, but he was not above dealing directly with the
problems and issues requiring his attention. During one of the typical anti-Chinese demonstrations
so common at the time, the Emperor gave the local populace a lesson in the practical application of
civics - and prayer. Sensing the dangerously heated tone of one particular meeting, Norton is reported
to have stood up before the group, bowed his head and begun reciting the Lord's Prayer. Within a few
minutes the agitators retreated in shame without putting any of their threats into cruel action.

The Emperor's position on equal rights for women, however, seemed to fluctuate. An October 1878 petition
to the California Constitutional Convention calling for an amendment "that no citizens of the State
shall be disfranchised on account of sex" had among its signers "Norton I Emperor." While
not a typical 19th century male chauvinist, however, Norton drew a thin line around a woman's role. When
the Emperor came to hear a noted leader of the movement lecture on women's rights, for example, it seemed
in order for the master of ceremonies to introduce Norton and suggest that he step up on the stage before
the guest speaker and receive the greetings of his subjects. But bedlam must have broken out when he
decided to lecture on the subject himself, telling those women present to "go home and mind their
children."

Although Norton was obviously busy with his local and national duties, he also found time to dabble
in foreign affairs. At one time he let it be known that Mexico had "beseeched him to rule over
her." As a result, he added "Protector of Mexico" to his already ponderous title. But
his protectorate did no last long; he shortly dropped his new title with the explanation that it
was "impossible to protect such an unsettled nation."

Although Norton died suddenly of apoplexy on January 8th, 1880 while making his daily rounds, he
remained Emperor. The San Franciscans who had honored him in life continued to be loyal subjects
after his death. The whole city mourned its loss. "San Francisco without Emperor Norton,"
a newspaper announced, "will be like a throne without a king," and the city knew it.
San Franciscans had grown to love Norton, eccentric or not, and they let it be known. Flags hung
at half mast. Businesses closed out of respect. Funeral and burial arrangements for the Emperor
were the most elaborate the city had seen, with an impressive 20,000 people paying their last
respects. With wealthier citizens bearing the expenses, Norton was laid to rest in the Masonic
Cemetery with all the ceremony that a real emperor would have received.

(Added text)
In 1934, his remains had to be moved to Woodlawn cemetery in Colma. Fifty-four years after
his death, he still captured the imagination of San Francisco. Flags throughout the city were
lowered and businesses actually closed their doors in his honor. Approximately sixty thousand
people attended the ceremony which featured full military honors. His new granite tombstone was
engraved "Norton I, Emperor of the United States, Protector of Mexico, Joshua A. Norton, 1819-1880".
There are no quotation marks on the tombstone.

Note: This article was retyped from the now defunct American History magazine.